


There Will Be No Tenderness

by synystermoxley



Series: There Will Be No Tendernes [1]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Anal Fingering, Handcuffs, M/M, Non-Consensual, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:02:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3971977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synystermoxley/pseuds/synystermoxley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eddie like to experiment with handcuffs when he's alone.Chris interrupts and decides to have fun with the situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Will Be No Tenderness

**Author's Note:**

> What would they say now if they saw you in this place?  
> Naked and breathless, could you live with this disgrace?  
> -Hatef--k by The Bravery

Frigid wind whipped against the pane, the closed blind concealing the flurries Eddie knew were falling.  


The hotel room was silent: Eddie’s phone was off and Chris had gone out with a few of the guys the nights show.  


He took a deep breath, enjoying the tingle of anticipation that came with well-planned alone time. He stripped off, loving the thrill of being completely naked on a Monday night for no reason at all. Well, not  _no reason_.  


He smiled to himself and reached up to snap the handcuff into place, adjusting it just tight enough. Exactly how he liked it. He tugged and listened to the handcuff scrape against the metal loop in his headboard just behind his pillow. He wasn’t sure what purpose the loop was meant to serve, but Eddie liked to think it was conveniently placed for exactly this.  


The cool metal cut across his wrist and he didn’t dare try too hard to pull free. They were trick cuffs, not the ones he’d stolen from the match he had with Paul a few months ago. These unlatched with the press of a button -- a three AM internet purchase after he’d woken from a nightmare where he’d lost the key to the real cuffs mid-wank and it (for some weird dream-reason) had taken half the Police Department to get him free. Eddie had since timed how long it would take him to release the trick cuff and dress versus the time it would take for Chris to walk in the front door. He wasn’t going to get caught by his friend, that’d be too embarrassing.  


His free hand wrapped around his cock and gave it a lazy tug. He’d tried this a few ways, but he got off the best like this, with his right hand cuffed and pinned to the headboard and his left -- his off-hand -- free to torture himself with an awkward, unnatural rhythm.  


It took ages to get off this way.  


His let his eyes fall shut and a few random images came to mind: grinding naked skin, glistening with sweat, hands roaming, fingers curling possessively, teeth and nails marking. No elaborate fantasy. No one specific. Not yet. Some days he played porn in the background, letting the filthy sounds get him hotter, but he hadn’t felt like it today. He wasn’t looking to get off quick, today it would take some effort to make this last.  


The frustration was already building, his left hand trying to find the smooth dexterity that came effortlessly with his right. It took all his focus. When the friction started to chafe, he flipped the top of his lube one-handed and squeezed some onto his belly. His abs tightened as it hit his flush-warm skin. Nose crinkling, he pressed his palm into the mess and, as he wrapped his fingers around himself again, the slide was better instantly. It was worth the shower he’d need later. The rhythm came easier now. He stared at the ceiling, tightening his grip and letting his legs fall open.  


He was worked up enough that it took a moment to recognize the sound. First the rattle of keys, a moment later the creak of the door opening. It felt as if time had stopped, and Eddie was given ages to decide whether to reach up and release his handcuff or to cover himself, but it was only an instant and Eddie hadn’t done either.  


Only when he saw  _Chris_  did he realize that the entire Police Department seeing him naked and cuffed to his bed was not in fact the worst case scenario here.  


No, the worst thing that could possibly happen to him today was definitely Chris standing a foot from his bed while Eddie scrambled to cup his crotch.  


He flushed hot, cheeks burning. Sweat dampened his armpits and his temples in his panic. They were both speechless for a long awkward moment then Chris’ eyes went from shocked-wide to amused. Eddie sputtered and twisted, trying to make himself less  _naked_ , less  _handcuffed_. He wished his boner would go down because right now his hand wasn’t quite covering it.  


“That was locked!”  


“Was it?” Chris cocked his head in feigned innocence. His eyes travelled Eddie’s body.  


Eddie felt the gaze creep over every exposed inch. He saw the instant Chris’ eyes settled on the odd angle of his arm and the cuff half-hidden by his pillow. The change in expression from amused to delight wasn’t subtle. Eddie gritted his teeth. “Get  _out_.”  


Chris prowled to the foot of the bed. “I don’t think I will.” He shook off his coat, letting it fall to the floor. The dusting of snow that speckled Chris’ hair had begun to melt, turning his hair into long wet waves that fell forward into his face. It made him look younger, a little wild with the dangerous smile. His eyes never left Eddie.  


Eddie cursed all things he hadn’t taken into account in his meticulous planning. He couldn’t release his handcuff without showing off his (still raging, damn it) hard on for Chris to see (and mock). He couldn’t even reach for a pillow to cover himself for the same reason. Flipping himself over sprang to mind, but was presenting his bare ass to Chris any better than covering his cock and blushing red? He wasn’t brave enough to find out.  


“No, seriously. You should leave.” He hated the way his voice cracked.  


Chris smirked, tilting his head like Eddie was a puzzle he was starting to figure out but he hadn’t yet solved. “Who’d have thought it.” His gaze searched Eddie’s face.  


Eddie went rigid the moment Chris spotted the trick release. He wasn’t sure why Chris knowing that he was not as vulnerable as he appeared frightened him, but he felt the last bit of his control of the situation slip.

  
“You like to play at having power taken from you, I see,” Chris said and sat on the bed, his thigh brushing Eddie’s foot. “I can understand that. You like to pretend you’re letting go. I’m sure it’s very erotic.” He tapped Eddie’s ankle.  


Eddie’s chest squeezed tight as he waited for the other shoe to drop.  


“You plan everything out to the last detail, don’t you, Eddie? Locked doors. Me being gone.” Chris’ hand at his ankle tightened and tugged. Eddie’s legs fell open a fraction. “Fake. Cuffs.” Chris shook his head, looking at Eddie like he was  _disappointed_.  


Heat crept up Eddie’s neck in humiliation. “Chris…”  


“You’re getting a little too old for children’s toys, don’t you think?” There was a blur of movement and Chris was on him, hovering over his body, not touching except for one hand pressing down on the pillow, grazing his ear. The other reached up and gripped the lock of the cuff. “Time to play with the big boys.”  


Eddie’s eyes squeezed tight as he heard the latch pop beneath Chris fingers, and he knew before he even tested it that the trick release of the cuff had been damaged and all his careful planning was fluttering to the floor.  


 

“That’s better.”

  
  
When Eddie opened his eyes, Chris smile was all teeth. He shifted onto the bed, prying Eddie’s legs apart to kneel between them. Panicked and not caring about modesty any longer, Eddie lifted his free hand to try to release the latch. His left hand was clumsy, not that mattered anyway; the lock had been crushed. He tugged at the cuff. It scraped against his headboard, but nothing gave way.

 

Chris’  hands settled on Eddie’s thighs, widening the spread of his legs enough to get his attention back. Eddie thrashed, trying to kick out, but the press of cold hands painfully squeezing his thighs made his blood run cold and he stilled.  


“Don’t tell me you only like  _acting_  helpless. That would be so disappointing.” Chris’ expression didn’t change, but the nails breaking through the skin of his Eddie’s thighs said the words were laced with iron. “Touch yourself.”  


He hesitated, not willing to let go of the cuff as if he could snap it open with a burst of adrenaline-induced strength. He hissed in pain as his skin was pierced and he felt the wetness of blood welling and dripping. There would be stains on his sheets if he looked down. He swallowed, falling back to the bed and keeping his eyes on Chris, who looked back, expressionless.  


“Now.” 

  
Eddie huffed, but the sting in his legs stole the sarcastic remark before it even formed in his head. He slowly moved his hand towards his crotch and palmed himself. He was still hard. He tried not to think about what that meant. Or that the always amazing feel of his hand on his cock counterpointed the pain in a way that felt brilliant. His stomach churned in disgust at his body’s fucked up reaction.  


“Do it,” Chris whispered. It was somewhere between a command and begging, soft and threatening.  


Eddie’s fingers curled around his cock. It was still slick and the first tug sent his fear-heightened senses into overdrive. He arched, breaking eye contact with Chris and letting his head hit his pillow. He panted, his naked chest rising and falling like a frightened animal. He knew Chris wasn’t missing a thing.  


It was easier not to look, so he didn’t as he twisted his wrist around the wet head of his cock. He was harder now. Though, he’d barely softened since the interruption and now each stroke steamrolled him with sensation, a confusing mix of pain and need and humiliation.  


He wasn’t sure which was the worst of it: the dull pain as nails held still, waiting like they might rip his tender skin to shreds at any moment, the heat of Chris’ eyes which burned him even while Eddie was refusing to look away from the ceiling. But Eddie figured it was the rough graze of Chris’ jeans as it caught the inside of his knees. He’d never had anyone _there_ , holding his legs open, and preventing him from any kind of modesty. He was helpless, exposed in a way he’d never felt before, so very intimately and, God, he  _knew_  Chris was looking at every inch of him.  


A whimper escaped his throat, making Chris hum. He wished it back immediately.  


His throat was raw but he swallowed past it, not caring how his voice sounded as he rasped, “I hate you.”  


Chris hummed again, like he’d just been rewarded. “And yet you do seem to be enjoying yourself.”  


Eddie couldn’t stop his eyes prickling so he squeezed them shut and sped up his fist. Quick and dirty, he thought, dragging this out was only going to make it worse. There was no way that Chris was leaving before seeing Eddie’s embarrassment to completion. His wrist ached as it flew over his cock. The stupidity of having to use his off-hand only fueled his frustration. His hips jerked up to meet each thrust, his ass lifting clear off the bed. Chris had stopped clawing at his thighs, the faint sting of tiny wounds left in their memory. Soft fingertips and blunt nails tickled their way upward. Eddie tried not to care, tried not to think about who that touch belong to but the rumbly pleasure coming from Chris’ chest was impossible to block out.  


Chris hovered over him, a warm pleasant weight that made Eddie freeze.  


“Don’t stop on my account,” Chris whispered, suddenly right at Eddie’s ear.  


“Get off me,pendejo.” Eddie pulled at the cuff, forgetting he was helpless in his need to push Chris off, and he hissed as the metal cut his wrist.  


Chris’ breath puffed sweetly across Eddie’s face like he’d had a pastry for breakfast, but that was far too human, far too normal of a thought, and Eddie chased it away. All Chris was right now was a monster.  


“If you prefer,” Chris said, like Eddie was so very amusing. A new favourite toy. Then Chris licked at the damp trail from the edge of Eddie’s eyes to his ear. Feasting on tears, he thought with a bitter laugh. It was possible he was losing his mind.  


Chris settled back between his thighs, and Eddie let out a shaky breath. Part of him knew this position wasn’t any  _safer_. Only it felt that way, and Eddie would take what he could at the moment. Then a feather light touch on his stomach sent another frisson of panic through him. His head snapped down in time to see Chris’ fingers slide into the lube that was still making the spot above his belly button glisten.  


“What-” Eddie blinked, lump forming in his throat. “What do you think you’re doing?!”  


Chris smiled. “Close your eyes, Eddie” His voice wasn’t even taunting or scary. Maybe that was the worst part. It was almost  _gentle_. Then it went even softer. “Close them. Don’t make me hurt you.”  


Eddie swallowed. His heart beat frantically in his chest. His thighs trembled as Chris spread them until Eddie felt fully on display.  


He was still hard. Fuck. He wanted to die. Wanted to cover himself again. Cover his cock. Cover his  _ass_.  


“Please,” he choked. He meant  _please leave_. Get out. Please  _don’t_. But either Chris didn’t care or he willfully misinterpreted because in the next moment a slippery fingertip circled his entrance.  


“Don’t mind me,” Chris said, tap, tap, tapping him right  _there_. “Please continue.”  


Eddie couldn’t stop his squirming. He’d jacked off a lot.  _A lot_. But he’d never fingered himself. He wasn’t naive. He knew people did. Just, he’d never. He couldn’t  _breathe_  anymore because he was so fucking hard, and his hips wouldn’t stay still with Chris’ touch sending all thoughts but  _yesyesyes_  out of his brain.  


He had to touch his cock. He sobbed a bit when he fisted himself again, relieved and frustrated because Chris was laughing, teasing him now. The fingertip was just sneaking inside, pushing through easily, helped along with lube and the tilt of Eddies hips pressing it deeper.  


He pulled himself off, his chest burning for more oxygen as he started to hyperventilate. His ass burned a little but just enough, stretching  _just enough_  to know that Chris’ finger was inside him. He clenched around it. Chris moaned, pushing deeper until his knuckle bumped Eddie’s balls and he was coming.  


He wasn’t loud , Eddie was well trained at the silent orgasm, but his mouth fell open as if to scream. His muscles went painfully tight as the pressure built and built, and then he was coating his fingers and adding to the mess already on his chest. He spasmed, squeezing Chris’ finger as if he weren’t ready to let it go. Then he collapsed to the bed, boneless and shivering.  


With the last aftershock, Chris pumped his finger once and twice, chuckling at Eddie’s gasp and the new dribble of come leaking from his cock, before finally pulling free.  


Eddie stared at Chris, feeling wrecked.  


Chris was sweating, his hair damp at the temples and his cheeks pink. Eddie’s mind was too blank , maybe too full, to say anything. The silence dragged, only broken by Chris clearing his throat.

 

He stood, shifting in his jeans to readjust, and Eddie wanted to call him out. Call him a perv, a fucked up asshole, make him feel disgusting for what he had Eddie do. Only the words wouldn’t come and Eddie couldn’t find it in himself to regret that. Words would only remind him how powerless he really was right now.

 

Without a word, Chris set Eddie’s hand free from the cuffs. Eddie gaped and froze for a heartbeat before he scrambled off the bed. He tumbled to the floor, taking his pillow with him to cover himself and his cum-soaked chest.  


Chris just grinned. “Thank you for an entertaining night.” If he had a hat, Eddie was sure he’d fucking tip it right now.  


Chris bent to pick up his coat, taking his time to zip it and lift the collar to prepare for the frigid outside air. Eddie sat, silent and numb. Chris was about to step out the room by the time he found his voice again

 

“Don’t. Don’t ever touch me again, you idiota.” Eddie’s heart hammered at the look of pure menace on Chris’ face as he turned back.  


“The funny thing is, Eddie,” Chris said, his smile sincere and taunting, “you never once said no. You might want to think about why that is.”  


Chris left the hotel room; Eddie hoped that he’d be gone for the rest of the night. Eddie shivered, still cowered in the corner, pillow clutched around his middle, unable to move for a long while.  


Finally, he stood and tore the filthy sheets from his bed.   


“Fuck you,” he said to the empty room and went to go shower off the feel of Chris’ hands still on his skin.


End file.
